Chapter 11 #2
Then I straightened. I should go back out there. Except I couldn’t, not yet, not like this. For fuck’s sake, I’m shaking like a leaf. My nerves were raw.
And Luka’s poisonous voice was still whispering in the back of my skull.
I knew, balls to bones, that this wouldn’t be the last time Cameron would touch me gently and accidentally break something buried deep.
What happens the next time?
I wasn’t sure if I would hold myself together or fall apart completely in Cameron’s hands.
Cameron
I stared at Theo’s bedroom door.
What the hell just happened?
Music felt so wrong in the quiet, and I hit pause.
I pressed my palm over my sternum, trying to steady the thudding there.
My hand still tingled from where it had rested on Theo’s shoulder.
It had been nothing but a gentle touch, warm and friendly.
I’d done it a dozen times with friends, classmates, even strangers during introductions.
Theo had reacted as though he’d been burned.
I squeezed my eyes shut, but the image wouldn’t stop replaying: Theo jolting back, his eyes wide and unfocused, his breath stuttering, Theo stepping away from me as if he needed space to breathe.
Worst of all was the way Theo flinched, a real, physical recoil.
I hadn’t meant to scare him or cross a line. I’d simply touched him because it felt natural. Because I wanted to be close in that small, harmless way.
Theo wasn’t harmless.
Theo was composed on the outside and chaos underneath. Anyone could see it in the way he held himself, too precise, too aware of every inch of space around him.
I sat on the edge of the sofa, my elbows on my knees, confused as fuck.
Theo’s reaction hadn’t looked like “don’t touch me, I’m not interested.”
It had looked like fear, hurt…
A solid weight formed in my chest. Theo’s reaction stung more than I wanted to admit. It made my skin feel too tight, as though I’d messed something up without knowing how.
But it also told me something else.
Theo wasn’t cold. He wasn’t distant by choice.
Something happened to him.
Something old, heavy, painful.
I drew in a slow breath. I knew what it was like to hide parts of yourself behind walls. I’d done it with my family for years. Theo had walls too, but I got the feeling they didn’t just protect him—they trapped him.
I won’t push him again. Not physically, not in any way that would make him retreat. But I wasn’t going to back away, either.
Not from Theo, the man who had changed me forever.
I was sixteen years old when you turned my life upside down.
Except at the time, I hadn’t realised the momentous shift that had just taken place.
All I knew was the world went quiet whenever Theo Sinclair looked at me.
It was the summer after my GCSEs. Gary hadn’t come home from college: he and Theo had found a house to rent for their third year, and they’d invited me to stay with them for a week.
‘You’ll get a feel for uni life,’ Gary had said, which translated as Don’t mope around the house until Mum loses her mind.
So I’d gone, armed with sketchbooks and too much energy, ready to tag along while my big brother and his best friend enjoyed their last weeks of freedom before the next term got started.
A summer I’ll never forget.
Four years ago
Theo opened the door to their flat, barefoot, half-distracted, wearing a T-shirt and the kind of calm I envied.
Maybe that’s because I’m never calm around him.
“Hey, you made it.”
“Yeah.” I tried to sound casual, but it came out more breathless than anything.
Theo had changed since the last time I’d seen him. His shoulders were broader, his jaw somehow sharper, that soft Scottish accent flattened by years away from his roots, but still audible. There was an ease in him that made other people quieter, like gravity with a pulse.
Gary was the loud one, the joker, the one who could charm professors and bouncers alike. Theo was different, a quieter, self-contained kind of person. The kind who made you want to earn his approval.
And God help me, I’d always wanted that.
The first night, we pigged out on Chinese takeaway, a thing Mum never allowed at home, and I ate until I was sure my stomach was about to burst.
It hadn’t stopped me from stealing the last prawn crackers, simply because Theo wanted them. Not that I wanted to rile him.
I just wanted Theo to notice me.
I sprawled on the couch that would be my bed later, listening to Theo strum on his battered guitar.
“Is there any instrument you can’t play?” I demanded to know.
Gary snorted. “He’ll try anything once.” He pointed to the corner of the living room where an upright piano stood.
“That thing’s seen better days, so the landlord said we could use it.
But Theo? He makes it sound like a Steinway.
” His lips twitched. “Although he’s not that hot when it comes to woodwind.
” His eyes glittered. “Maybe that’s a sign of poor breath control.
That might make things… difficult down the line. ”
Theo glared at him, and I wondered what I’d missed.
“I’ve been trying to convince Theo to audition for the campus a cappella group again next term,” Gary mumbled, his mouth full of noodles. “Except he could run that group.”
Theo rolled his eyes. “I’m not running anything. I’m done being responsible for people who can’t find middle C.”
I laughed before I could stop myself. Theo glanced over, his eyebrows raised, his eyes lit with amusement. “What’s tickled you?”
“Aren’t you running a choir summer camp this week?” I wanted to go, if only to see Theo in action.
Another eye roll. “I’m doing that under duress. I blame your brother.” He cocked his head to one side. “Do you sing?”
“A bit.” I instantly regretted how small my voice sounded.
Theo’s mouth curved into a smile. “That means yes.”
“He plays guitar too,” Gary added with a grin.
If looks could kill, I would have been in the dock for fratricide.
Theo passed the guitar over, an unspoken challenge. “Sing something for me.”
I hesitated before awkwardly strumming the opening bars of a song, Taylor Swift’s ‘Lover’, something familiar and easy, then began to sing under my breath.
Halfway through the chorus, Theo joined in, his low, rich harmony wrapping around my melody like warmth.
Yes, Theo was good, but it was more than that. It was the way he listened, leaning in slightly, his head tilted, his eyes fixed on me as though the rest of the room had dissolved.
By the time the last note faded, my hands were shaking.
“Not bad,” Theo said softly. “You’ve got good tone. You actually listen.”
It was the smallest compliment, but it felt like a revelation.
The next few days had blurred into small, electric moments.
Theo making coffee in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up.
Theo leaning over the table, explaining chord progressions with a patience that felt personal.
Theo sitting cross-legged on the carpet, eyes closing when he hummed through a difficult phrase, and something in my chest twisting at the sound.
I’d seen attractive people before. Girls. Boys. Faces that made my stomach flip.